Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
By the time Truxxton enters the room to collect the creature quite possibly nearing a corpse state, the tension in the room is at a much different level than it was earlier.
There’s less worry, more want.
No panic, just hunger.
Me for him.
Him for me.
Fuck, even my ancient warrior side seems desperate for us to tussle with Ptur.
Have him roughly pin us down.
Taken in primal ways that technically should never happen between an employer and subordinate.
Though, I don’t really consider myself underneath him in that aspect.
But being underneath him in the other is exactly what I can’t stop myself quietly panting for.
The summoned member of security doesn’t even bother surveying the scene before asking, “How can I be of assistance, sir?”
Ptur who stood up the instant Truxxton arrived, extends an open palm to aid me in the rising to my feet. “Transport and stabilize the prisoner for critical questioning.” I step over the rolled-up rug at the same time he instructs. “Use the secure stairs. Avoid the cameras. Hide his scent to the best of your ability.”
A single nod of acknowledgement is presented.
“We’ll be down shortly.”
Truxxton nods once more and fetches the vamp-burrito in one swift swoop. He drapes the problem over his shoulder and struts out the way he came, leaving me to ponder just how strong can I get.
Very.
That’s not really how we measure things on the human side of The Fog.
P releases his hold on my hand to remove his phone from his pocket. “I’ll place a call to Tyana and have her arrange for repairs and the redecorating of your office as well as have her reorder your company tools, Miss Pennington. New supplies—like your laptop—should be available by morning; however, it may take a day or two for this space to be viable again depending on maintenance’s scheduling. I will have her insist they brand this workorder as urgent to speed up the process the best I can. In the meantime, you are welcomed to set yourself up in any of the open offices in the building, commandeer any office you prefer on this floor regardless of who it belongs to, or join me in mine.” His eyes cut me a mischievous glance. “I won’t knock before entering the room, but we can establish a set of ground rules which will allow the shared environment to be one that is both respectful and productive.”
The wrong portion of my brain wants to be the one to respond prompting me to chomp down on the corner of my lip.
“Mint, Miss Pennington?”
That is so not what I want on my tongue!
And given the way he purred the question he fucking knows it!
Yes.
Ugh. Why am I this wound up?
Thirst.
What? What does that mean? Also is that why his take charge, take control nature is only making me wetter—something that these cream-colored pants aren’t going to handle well for much longer.
Yes.
Okay, there’s one problem sort of solved.
“Retrieve your personal belongings, Miss Pennington.” Ptur hits a button on his phone as he lifts it to his ear. “We have a meeting to get to.”
I promptly rummage through the mess, grab my purse, and my cell while he places the call to his assistant. We exit my office and work our way to the opposite end of the floor, side by side, never making physical contact in order to maintain our professional appearance. Having his muscular frame a hair’s breadth away but unable to just reach out and touch him throws sticks of desperation onto the inferno sizzling right beneath the surface. Between his torturous proximity and panty melting smells, I’m practically left breathless by our arrival at his private elevator. His large palm slaps itself on the scanner that only he can access, and I have to force my lips shut to suppress the desire to moan that the action ignites.
Determined to focus on something that isn’t the bulge I can outline with my eyes, I airily question, “Why do you have your own private elevator?”
The doors ding open at the same time he quietly grumbles, “I don’t like to wait, Miss Pennington.”
Ohmygreatones, neither do I.
Once we’re both safely inside the small space that has no trouble accommodating his monstrous height, he slaps the scanner on the inside to grant himself access to the flooring options yet this time, I fail to swallow the lecherous sound swimming around my mouth. Low rumbles seep free as he jams the G for ground level but when the aggressive pressing persuades an additional whimper to showcase itself seconds after the transportation object is in motion, he slams his hands against the lower panel meant for emergency stops only.
I’ll have to check the manual, but I’m pretty sure horniness is not on the list of appropriate reasons to cease an elevator from moving.
“You are killing me, Fated Mate,” Ptur growls, back hitting the wall space closest to the control area. “You have got to let me do something about this shit before we get down there.”